


We Could Be Enough

by EideticPrettyBoySpence



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:22:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25234615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EideticPrettyBoySpence/pseuds/EideticPrettyBoySpence
Summary: This story is based on 4x24
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	We Could Be Enough

I've been dating Dr. Spencer Reid for roughly a year and a half. The first time I saw him in person I was taking a seminar in college. I was instantly attracted to how gorgeous he was, but when he started speaking I was spellbound. I love the way he talks so passionately about his work. I had known I wanted to be part of the BAU since I was in high school. But taking that seminar solidified my decision. I've almost lost him a couple of times, but I wouldn't change anything. We recently moved in together, since his apartment was closer to the FBI and he didn't like how dangerous the neighborhood I lived in was. We were laying in bed after getting home from a case, getting some much-needed rest, when our phones both went off with a text from Hotch. We showered and got dressed, then Spencer drove us into the office. We met Derek and Emily, riding up in the elevator together. Spencer spoke to them as the doors opened.

"Case must be local. JJ said not to bring a go bag."

"What's the Army doing here?" Derek asks.

"What the hell is going on?" I say in shock.

JJ looks at us as we walk into the round table room. "Guys, this is Dr. Linda Kimura, Chief of Special Pathogens with the CDC."

"Hello," Emily greets her.

"Hello. I'm sorry to meet under these circumstances."

"What circumstances?"

"We need to get started," Hotch comes in the room.

"Last night, twenty-five people were checked into emergency rooms in and around Annapolis," JJ says. "They were all at the same park after two PM yesterday. Within ten hours, the first victim died. It's now just past seven AM the next day, we have twelve dead."

"Lung failure and black lesions," Derek says. "Anthrax?"

"Anthrax doesn't kill this fast," Spencer says.

"This strain does," Dr Kimura says.

"What are we doing about potential mass targets-- airports, malls, trains?" Emily asks.

"There's a media blackout," Hotch says.

"We're not telling the public?"

"We'd have a mass exodus," Derek says quickly.

"The psychology of mass panic would cause more deaths than this last attack," Rossi says.

"Yeah, and if it does get out, whoever did this might go underground or destroy their samples," my boyfriend says.

"Or if they wanted attention and didn't get it, they might attack again," Emily argues. "Doesn't the public have a right to know that?"

"If there is another attack, there's no way we'll be able to keep it quiet," Hotch says. "Our best chance to protect the public is building a profile as quick as we can."

"What do we know about this strain?" 

"The spores are weaponized, reduced to a respiral ideal that attacks deep in the lungs," the doctor says. "Odorless and invisible."

"A sophisticated strain. Only a scientist would know how to do that," Rossi says.

"These lesions are doubling in size in a matter of hours," Derek says. 

"It's not the lesions I"m worried about. It's the lungs," Dr. Kimura answers. "We don't know how to combat the toxins once they're inside. And the reality is, we may lose them all. The remaining survivors have been moved to a special wing at Walter Reed hospital."

"Our offices will become a small command center," JJ says.

"We'll be working with military scientists from Fort Detrick," Hotch adds.

"General Whitworth is coming here?" Rossi adds.

"He's in charge of site containment and spore analysis. Determining what strain will help inform who's responsible."

"My team is in charge of treating all victims," Dr. Kimura says.

"Reid, Johnson, go with Dr. Kimura to the hospital. Interview the victims," Hotch nods to a tray of pills. "Morgan and Prentiss, there's a hazmat team that will accompany you to the crime scene. There's Cipro. Everybody needs to take it before we go."

"We don't know if it's effective against this strain, but it's something," the doctor says.

"This is really happening?" Emily asks.

"We knew this could happen. We've done our homework," Hotch answers her. "We've prepared for this. This is it."

"Jin Dan. May you live 100 years," Rossi toasts, making me chuckle nervously.

After Spencer and I take the Cipro, we get ready to go to the hospital. We head into JJ's office after Spencer fails to find some files.

"Do you have those files I've been looking for?" 

"Did you see this email from the Director?" JJ answers his question with a question. "Office phones and emails are being monitored."

"Yeah, they're trying to protect the media blackout. Files?"

"Uh, yeah, right here," the blonde woman hands him a stack of files.

"Thanks. I want to see what kind of treatment the victims received before we head to the hospital."

"Why do you think the suspect in 2001 stopped sending the letters?"

"I have no idea, but if he hadn't, it would have been much worse," Spencer replies. 

"The worst part was not knowing when it was gonna be over. Feeling safe opening mail again."

"Five people died. Many more exposed and sickened," Spencer read one of the files softly. "Including a baby who was admitted to the hospital after lesions appeared on his skin."

"How did he contract it?"

"I have no idea. Must have come into close contact with a tainted letter or crossed paths with the unsub himself."

"How old was the baby?"

"Seven months."

"Did he survive?"

"I gotta run. Kimura's waiting," he takes my hand. "I'll call you from the hospital."

"Spence. Did the baby survive?" JJ insists.

"Yeah. But, I mean, that was a curable strain. This thing's entirely different."

It's a silent ride to the hospital, with me holding tight to his hand. When we get to the hospital, we start interviewing the victims. We start with Abby, a blonde girl who looks to be no older than Spencer and I. She's probably a little younger than us.

"Hi, Abby. You feeling any better?" Dr. Kimura asks, and she shakes her head. "Okay. This is Agent Reid from the FBI. If you can, will you talk with him?"

"It's Dr. Reid, actually," I cut in, and he smiles at me.

"Abby, I'd like to try to do a memory recall exercise with you to take you back to the park, if that's okay. I need you to close your eyes. Yesterday afternoon, you rode your bicycle to the park. How did the sun feel on your skin, the breeze through your hair? Can you describe for me what you heard and the people that you saw?"

"It was warm, windy. There were guys... football. Kids... I see free... me seen fee me. Free knee. S... sin knee."

"All right, Abby. That's okay. You just rest now, okay?"

"Me mock fee key me free," the blonde says.

"Shh, shh, shh. You just rest. Okay? Thank you."

"What's causing her aphasia?" Spencer asks as we leave the room.

"The poison is infecting the parietal lobe, impairing her speech," Dr. Kimura says sadly."Some of the other patients displayed the same symptoms shortly before they died."

"None of the drug combinations are working?"

"The only thing that's helping them right now is the morphine."

We were headed to interview a second victim when we hear a commotion in the hall. Then an announcement comes over the PA-- someone was flatlining. Dr. Kimura runs toward the room and slips inside, coming out fifteen or so minutes later. She shakes her head and we walk away from the room slowly. Spencer turns to ask her a question, but she answers before he could.

"Thirty-eight-year-old high school history teacher. Leaves two kids behind."

"Seventeen out of twenty-five dead," Spencer says softly. 

"This strain is duplicating. Every thirty to forty-five minutes. It's poisoning the lungs, causing massive hemorrhaging and organ failure."

"Extreme bacterial amplification. Whoever created this had to at some point go to the trouble of testing it."

"What do you mean?"

"Think about the way scientists work their way up to human testing. They start with rodents, then advance to larger mammals, and then at some point, they do a very small trial run with people. There's no way this was his first human test run."

"We would have heard about a previous anthrax attack."

"Not if it presented itself as something else."

Dr. Kimura walks away and makes some calls, coming back roughly an hour later. It turns out that Spencer was right, which didn't surprise me in the least. Nine times out of ten we wouldn't solve cases without his help. He texts Rossi to tell him we found something, and a few minutes later his phone rings. We hear JJ's voice and it sounds like we're on speaker so we can share the info with everyone at once.

"Hello?"

"Uh, Reid, you have me, Rossi and Hotch."

"Kimura made some calls. It turns out that two days ago, two people in two separate Baltimore ERs and one person in a Philadelphia ER slipped into comas and died suddenly. Now, the COD on all of them was meningitis. Doctors didn't test for anthrax because the illnesses presented themselves as meningitis, but I think it can be caused by anthrax."

"Did they show symptoms that we're seeing now-- the lesions?" Rossi asks.

"They wouldn't have if the bodily functions expired as quickly as they did," I interrupt.

"How quickly?" Hotch asks.

"All dead within three hours of being admitted."

"But the first patient died yesterday at ten hours."

"Here's the thing-- if they inhaled a higher concentration of the strain, it would cause a quicker death. Organ failure without exterior physical symptoms," Spencer says.

"What are their names?"

Spencer gives him the names and then hangs up. Not long after that, another victim dies, and Dr. Kimura comes to find us. 

"It feels like the plagues of Egypt. Ten scourges created by God."

"Plague six was unhealable boils believed by Biblical scholars to be caused by anthrax."

"Never missed Sunday school, did you?" Dr. Kimura picks up a chart.

"Actually, never been before. How is she doing?" Spencer asks, referring to Abby.

"She's a fighter. She's held on this long because she's young and strong. But she's started to bleed into her lungs."

"One of four left."

"We've run into another problem. When the next of kin have questions, what do we tell them about cause of death?"

Neither Spencer nor I know how to answer that, so we don't bother trying. It's not long until Derek calls Spencer and tells him Hotch wants us to go to a suspect's house. We drive to the home of Dr. Lawrence Nichols, a former biochemical weapons expert for the Army. When we arrive, there's already a hazmat team waiting. We all climb out of the car as Derek gets a phone call from Penelope.

"All right, keep me posted," he hangs up. "This guy just had people over for a charity event last month."

"We should probably take a look around anyway," Spencer hisses in pain as he gets scratched by a thorn.

Derek's phone rings and he picks up. I lag behind to listen to his conversation. "Yeah, Prentiss, what's up? Uh-huh. Yeah, we're here now. The lab is clean? You're sure? They got nothin'," we turn around to talk to Spencer, but he's already in the house. "Reid? Reid. Reid!"

"Morgan, get-- Nyssa, get back! Get back! Get out of here!"

"What are you doing?" Derek says.

"Spencer!! Baby!!" I yell as he slams the door in our face.

"No, don't," he shouts as I reach for the doorknob.

"What's wrong?"

"Believe me, get back."

"Reid, open the door!" Derek shouts.

"I'm sorry."

My face pales as I see a tube with a biohazard symbol lying on the floor. It had shattered and there was a white powder spilling from it. I look up into Spencer's eyes and I see that the air is blasting. 

"Derek, look, that's anthrax!! Spencer!!!" I turn away from the door and Derek wraps his arms around me. "Derek, he's the unsub. What if... oh, god... no, no, no, no... god please no."

"Hey, sweetheart you need to listen to me. I need you to calm down, alright? Panicking isn't going to do him any good."

I'm already fumbling my phone out of my pocket as Derek is talking. I dial Hotch's number with shaking fingers, hand over my mouth to cover the sobs I can feel building up in my chest. The dam breaks as I hear my bosses voice answer, and I tell him what just happened.

"Hotch, he's in there alone. He's alone. He's going to die alone."

"Nyssa, sweetheart, he's not going to die. We're on our way, alright, sit tight. We'll be there soon, just hold on."

It feels like time stands still as I wait for Hotch and the CDC to arrive with an ambulance. Derek tries to get me to come away from the door but I just shake him off every time. Finally, he gives up and walks away as people pull up to the house. I hear him talking to Hotch but I don't pay much attention. I don't pay attention to anything but the love of my life on the other side of that door. I put a hand on the glass, and he puts a hand up on the other side. Tears are flowing unchecked down my face as I scan his face.

"How's Reid?" I hear Hotch's voice.

"There's white powder in the room and the air was blasting."

"Get a decon team suited up. Secure a grey zone outside that door," I hear an unfamiliar voice. "Clean him up and get him in the ambulance fast."

"I should have been right there with him," Derek says, and I silently agree.

"Morgan, there's no time for second-guessing. What do we know?"

"Nichols is dead. Blunt force trauma to his head. Reid thinks he's been dead two or three days."

"Well, then he couldn't have been responsible for the attack," the man's voice answers.

"Reid's had Cipro today, so he's gotta be okay, right?"

"I don't know, it was precautionary."

"It's not helping patients at the hospital," I choke out a sob as the man speaks.

"Yeah, but they didn't take it until after they were exposed. Reid took it before."

"Yeah, but we've never tested this strain on a Cipro-ready subject. We just don't know."

"Reid," Hotch answers as his phone rings.

"Hotch, I messed up this time."

"Reid, we need to get you out and to the hospital."

"No, I'm staying right here."

"There's no way in hell that's happening!!" I shout.

"No, you're not, Reid," Derek says.

"I'm already exposed. It's not gonna do me any good to stop working the case."

"I don't give a damn about the case!!"

"He's already infected. Now, if Nichols created the strain, he may have also created the cure."

"My best chance is to stay here, see if there's a cure, try to figure out who killed Dr. Nichols."

"Come on, Hotch, say something to him," I hold my breath as Derek speaks.

"He's right. His best chance is inside," I choke out a sob as Hotch answers. "We're gonna get a suit and mask in to you right away."

"Don't bother. It's not gonna do me any good. I'm already infected," Reid hangs up the phone.

"Spencer, please!! Hotch!!"

Derek takes my arm and attempts to pull me away but I try to pull my arm out of his grip. He turns me away from the door and pulls me against his chest. I collapse into his embrace with a harsh sob and he strokes my hair softly in comfort.

"He's going to die, Derek. Inhaled anthrax is the most fatal form. This one mutates every half an hour to forty-five minutes. Cipro doesn't work on this strain. We haven't found anything that does. Oh, god, Spencer..."

"He's not going to die, Nyssa. Okay? He's gonna be fine."

"Reid, what do you see in there?" Hotch asks.

"I see cages filled with dead animals. I see signs of a struggle, probably before Dr. Nichols was murdered. Equipment's missing. There's a large desk. Clutter all over the surface. But in the corner, there's a smaller desk. It's organized, functional."

"Two different work spaces?"

"Two sets of handwriting. I'm looking at instructions on how to boil lab-grade broth, sterilize lab equipment, and transfer spores."

"Nichols would know all that."

"He has a partner, maybe even a protege. Go back to the BAU, try to figure out who this partner is."

"Hotch, why don't you go? I'll stay with Reid."

"Funnel all the information you get to me," Hotch says as he runs away.

"Reid, wow, no witty Garcia greeting for me?" I faintly hear Spencer on the phone to Garcia. "Garcia, do you think you can do something for me? I know I can't call my mom without, uh-- without alerting everyone at her hospital. I need you to record a message for her in case anything happens to me," there's a pause before he speaks again. "I hope you're right, but if you're not, I just-- I really want to make sure she hears my voice," I cover my mouth with a sob as he waits for Garcia's okay. "Hi, mom. This is Spencer. I just, um... I just... really want you to know that I love you and--" he clears his throat. "I need you to know that I spend every day of my life proud to be your son. I gotta go."

"Prep the victim for transfer," Dr. Kimura says.

"Get me another suit, now, please!!" I step into it as Dr. Kimura enters the house. "Wait!!"

"Dr Reid," she says.

"Spencer..." I brush past her and into his arms. "Oh god, Spence."

"Hey, little girl," he cups the back of my head. "You two look nice."

"I haven't been in this outfit for a while."

"How are-- how are the patients doing?"

"Let's worry about you," she says.

"I'm sorry but I don't give a damn about the other patients."

"I actually-- I feel fine," I sob against his shoulder because I can tell he's lying. 

"Okay, if you feel any pain, I could give you something."

"He won't take narcotics," I say softly.

"No I-- I'd rather not take any pain medication."

"We can at least make you feel more comfortable."

"I am comfortable and I don't want to take any narcotics."

"Tell me how I can help, Spencer," I whisper.

"I think the cure for this strain is in here somewhere."

"Well, should I start here?" Dr. Kimura asks.

" Dr. Nichols is a former military scientist, which means he's most likely secretive and most likely a little paranoid," I say as I look around the room, trying to think like Spencer as much as I can.

"He would have protected the cure, and probably would have hidden it from his partner," Spencer finishes for me. "So look for something innocuous, something you would not suspect." His phone rings, and he coughs as he answers it. "Hello?"

"How's it going in there, guys?" Derek's voice comes over the speaker.

"I've seen better days," Spencer replies.

"Well, you got me and Garcia."

"Hey, Reid," my best friend's voice comes.

"Reid, stick with me. Listen, Prentiss and Rossi don't think the partner was a coworker. Can you tell us anything else about him?"

"I... I've already been through everything."

"Come on, no, kid, I know you're not thinking straight, but the Reid I know wouldn't stop looking."

"All right, all right..." Spencer clears his throat and we jog over to a desk. "I see a, uh, a framed photograph of Dr. Nichols teaching. I see... I see a binder with syllabi. Course assignments going all the way back to the 1970s."

"All right. So he kept a scrapbook of himself as a professor. That tells us he values himself as an educator."

"A teacher. I saw something earlier. I didn't-- I didn't make a connection to it or to the partner, but he has a study on anthrax. He has an annotated bibliography, table of contents. It's formatted like a thesis and has writing in the margins in red ink, like the way a teacher grades a paper. Now, Nichols wouldn't have let just anyone in here, but he may have opened his lab for educational purposes, as a teacher."

"So the partner must have appealed to him as a student. Nichols is helping him with his thesis."

"I-- I can look up local PhD students," Garcia says.

"Yeah, check the sciences," I say. "Biochemistry, microbiology."

"Uh... cross-checking with names of former employees or customers with grievances at the bookstore. Nothing, my doves."

"Listen to this," Reid coughs. "'This country is woefully unprepared. Every household should have a two month supply of Cipro. Hospitals are in need of bio-safety level four decon wings.'"

"That's verbatim to what we heard from Nichols. The partner's adopted Nichols' views as his own."

"The chapters are on setting up triage and mobile emergency rooms. I don't think this paper was written by a science student. It's about city preparedness and response."

"So, Garcia, check with students in the social sciences--" I say quickly. "Public policy, urban planning."

"Hot to trot. There's a Chad Brown, School of Public Policy at U of M. Matches a Chad Brown, former employee at the book front."

"That's gotta be him," Derek and I say.

"Totally. He's been in the doctoral program on and off for five years. Nix on a steady job. Was slapped with a restraining order from his former girlfriend and has been arrested and released twice at protest rallies in DC. I'll tell Hotch."

"Kid, you did real good. Now get the hell out of there. Bye."

"Dr Reid. You said the cure would be hidden somewhere we wouldn't suspect. What about Nichols' inhaler?"

"Spencer, you're gonna be okay," I leap into his arms with a sob, and he wraps his arms around me. "Come on let's get out of here."

We walk out of the house hand in hand, met by a hazmat person holding a hose. Derek is on the other side of a plastic sheet.

"Yeah, they're hosing him down now. All right," he hangs up the phone. "They're checking out Brown's house."

"Go help Hotch," Spencer tells Derek.

"Hotch has plenty of people helping him."

"He needs you more than I do."

"Reid, I'm gonna see you off to the hospital."

"I'm about to get naked so they can scrub me down. Is that something you really want to see?"

"I'll check on you later," Derek says as he walks away. "Take good care of him, please."

"Get this to the lab," Dr. Kimura says, handing over the inhaler. "I hope you're right about this."

"So do I."

"Dr Reid, did you cut yourself?"

"Oh god, it'll get in your bloodstream faster..."

After they scrub Spencer down, paramedics meet us outside. By the time he gets in the ambulance, he's sweating profusely. They hook him up to oxygen, a blood pressure cuff, and an IV with fluids so he doesn't get dehydrated. I look at Dr. Kimura pleadingly until she lets me inside the ambulance. I stay out of her way and the way of the Army medic, taking Spencer's hand in both of mine.

"Hey, baby, it's okay. I'm right here with you."

"How are you feeling, Dr Reid?"

"My throat's a little dry. But other than that... I feel... flee... flee fin. I feel-- I fleel fin. I--"

"Oh god, Spencer..."

"Dr Reid, okay."

"Drive faster!!" I scream through my tears, not giving a damn about manners. "Please!!"

He coughs harshly, a bit of blood falling on his lip. I lift his hand and kiss it, feeling my hand shaking. He lifts his other hand to my cheek and holds it there for a moment before it falls. I whimper softly, trying not to sob out loud again. I will the ambulance to go faster, my heart practically in my throat the whole time. I'm so anxious and scared that I feel like throwing up. Spencer squeezes my hand weakly. When we get to the hospital, Dr. Kimura makes me wait outside the room while they get him stabilized. I take his hand as they take him to the elevator and up to his room. When the doctor and nurses leave, I crawl up on the bed. 

I'm sobbing quietly when Derek comes into the room, and I jump a little as he strokes my hair. I brush Spencer's hair out of his face with a sniffle. I lay my head on his chest and cry quietly for a while until I can't cry anymore. Not long after that, I hear a weak voice.

"You're eating Jell-O?"

"Spencer, oh god, you're okay..." I kiss him softly, pleased when he cups my cheek.

"Hey, kid," Derek says. "Hey, doc. Look who's back."

"Is there any more Jell-O?" Spencer says, and I laugh.

"Hey. Not so fast," Dr Kimura says.

"What happened?"

"You're gonna be all right, kid," Derek says. "And we got Brown. It's over."

"How's Abby?" Spencer asks. It's just like him to care about someone else more than himself.

"She's on the mend. So are the three others. You were right about where to look for the cure."

"Why was Dr. Nichols making anthrax in the first place?"

"He was a brain scientist downgraded to working with the flu. Brown comes along asking for help on his thesis..."

"Would have been more than happy to share his knowledge."

"There was no indication that Nichols had any idea what Brown was planning."

"Like that makes it any better. Spencer could have died!!" Spencer strokes my cheek softly as the doctor speaks again.

"His strain and its cure are getting locked up in containment at Fort Detrick, with all the other bio-agents people don't know about."

"Hm. Really. What else do they have locked up in there?"

We visit for a while more until Spencer gets cleared to leave. Derek drives us back to our apartment and we board the elevator. Once we get off on our floor, I take the key from Spencer's pocket and unlock the door. He walks inside and I follow him, shutting the door and leaning against it. I squeeze my eyes shut with a sigh, and a tear rolls down my cheek. Spencer pulls me into his arms and I wrap my arms around his waist with a sob. He strokes my hair softly and rocks me gently, murmuring to me.

"Hey, little girl, shh. I'm okay, yeah?" Spencer pulls back to look in my eyes, brushing my tears away. "I'm perfectly fine, I'm right here."

"It got into your brain, Spence. The last step before..."

"I know, love. I know. But I'm okay. You can't get rid of me so easily."

I let out a half-hysterical laugh, standing on tiptoes to kiss him softly. He cups my cheek in his hands, deepening the kiss for a moment before I pull away. I cup his cheek in my hand for a second and he covers it with his larger one.

"You've been through hell. Let's go to bed, yeah?"

"Yeah, I'm exhausted."

After we get undressed, I slip into Spencer's CalTech sweater. He raises an eyebrow with a smile, his eyes raking my body.

"Spencer, come on. Let's go to bed."

"I love you, little girl."

"I love you, too, Spencer. More than anything."

Spencer pulls me into his arms once we lay down, and I fall asleep listening to his heartbeat. I don't have nightmares because I'm in the arms of the man I love. He's alive and safe. As long as he comes home at the end of the day, that'll be enough.


End file.
